


Heroic Possibilities and Sorry Achievements

by Maidenjedi



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 13:04:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18993202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maidenjedi/pseuds/Maidenjedi
Summary: The first time, for Jed, C.J., Ainsley, Sam, and Josh.





	Heroic Possibilities and Sorry Achievements

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in November 2008. Posted to AO3 for the first time May 2019.
> 
> There's some sexual harassment in the C.J. section. Heads-up.

The Bartlets were, and are, an American institution. Jed was able to recite the family history back to the Declaration (and beyond, given an incentive like candy) before he was four years old. And you can bet he never forgot to tell whoever was listening that he was named for old Josiah himself.   
  
"So it's my name on the Declaration of Independence," he'd say while bouncing on the balls of his feet. "They call me Jed, but Josiah is who I really am."  
  
He was young and it was cute, so they all indulged him.   
  
He was in the first grade when he first ran for office. They were doing mock elections to coincide with the real, national election for President of the United States, and little Jed Bartlet was picked (well, he waved his hand the highest and was therefore hard to ignore) to represent the Democratic Party.   
  
He had to give a speech about patriotism, and nobody could do it like Jed even at that tender age. He recited the preamble to the Declaration, talked about the flag and the right to vote, and managed to refrain from telling his classmates what they all knew about his ancestor Josiah Bartlett. But he couldn't help running on the name - his crayon-drawn campaign signs all read "Josiah Bartlet for Prezident" with a flourish.  
  
Jed won by four votes, mostly because his opponent hadn't even bothered with signs and his speech had been long and full of words he couldn't pronounce.  
  
The whole thing meant nothing in the end (Jed was just Jed the day after the election, and President Bartlet was no more), but it gave him a taste for campaigning. He ran for class president the first chance he had, in the fourth grade, and later when he ceased considering the priesthood, it wasn't only Abby who'd turned his head.   
  
It was the idea of the thrill it might be to run for school board.  
  
\---  
  
She'd gotten into politics as a girl, following her mother to the polling booth and occasionally carrying signs and handing out leaflets for the various candidates for school board. It reached a fever pitch when Robert Kennedy was running for president. She walked blocks and held little corner rallies where neighbors came mostly out of curiosity, and when he was shot she hid in her room and cried for a week. When she came out, she wore all black and had fashioned a button with Nixon's face and a huge X over it.   
  
Election Day 1972 was about six months away when her mother came in her bedroom one afternoon with a pamphlet in her hand.  
  
C.J. thought it was another college brochure. She'd been accepted at UC Berkeley and her mother had been trying to convince her to go somewhere a bit closer and less radical, though with little conviction since she was actually very proud of her daughter. But C.J. could see it wasn't a college brochure at all, and her mother was talking kind of fast.  
  
"Wait, what? You want me to do an internship? In  _Washington_?"  
  
"I think you should consider it, yes. I picked this up today. Senator Rooker wants interns for his Capitol staff. They're encouraging young women to apply. Since you're so interested in politics these days," she waved at C.J.'s pile of political biographies on her desk, "I thought you might be interested."  
  
C.J. took the pamphlet. It would mean delaying her start at Berkeley by a semester, but she could certainly do it. Graduation was coming up, and she could leave for Washington right after that.  
  
So she applied, and she got it. Interning meant mostly running for coffee, wearing hose, and having to keep her make-up neat, but she was working in Washington, making a real difference! The senator was doing stump speeches back home, and as his campaign got more heated by the day, a decision was made to send the interns back to make calls and register voters.  
  
C.J. worked harder than anyone, talking about Rooker's record as a reformer, his time in the Kennedy administration, what he'd done in his first term as senator. She knocked on doors, spent hours on the phone, had more paper cuts than anyone from stuffing envelopes.  
  
Yes, it was glamorous work.  
  
It also paid off. Rooker won with more than 60% of the vote, and the victory party was huge and booze-laden. So C.J. was able to tell herself later that what Rooker -  _Senator_  Rooker - did when he made a pass at her (she refused to think about the details) was just drunken stupor.  
  
C.J. went to Berkeley, and Rooker served three more terms. She never worked another one of his elections, despite entreaties from friends back home. In fact, once she found Emily's List, she only ever helped women get elected after Rooker's campaign.   
  
Until Toby Ziegler came to visit her in her backyard, and she found herself working for Governor Jed Bartlet of New Hampshire.  
  
That was a campaign worth remembering.  
  
\-----  
  
Ainsley Hayes was dying to go to college, so she could join the College Republicans and help Ronald Reagan get reelected. She was planning on Duke, or maybe William and Mary (after all, Thomas Jefferson went there). Maybe Stanford.  
  
Where Herbert Hoover went.  
  
But she was only twelve in 1984, and she had to content herself with Lee Junior High Republicans, which was all she spent her time doing that fall.  
  
When she wasn't doing debate team.  
  
Or Girl Scouts.   
  
Or representing her class on the Seventh and Eighth Grade Dance Committee.  
  
Okay, chairing the Seventh and Eighth Grade Dance Committee.  
  
She held cupcake and lemonade sales (she made the cupcakes herself) and told her neighbors about how important it was to re-elect the President of the United States, Ronald Reagan. And most of them stayed to listen to what she said. She thought maybe they were just doing it to be nice, but that was fine, because it still gave her a chance to work out the kinks in her stump speech.  
  
"Ainsley, dear? Where did you learn that term?" Her mother was always doing that, smiling a little while she asked Ainsley questions about how she learned something or where she'd heard it. And the answer was always the same.  
  
"Grandpa Hayes, Mom." Her grandfather was chairman of the North Carolina Republican Party, and he loved it when Ainsley asked him questions and begged for stories. Just, instead of fairy tales or fake stories about walking uphill five miles in the snow, he told her about politics.  
  
One of her neighbors bought two cupcakes and sat down on the grass to hear Ainsley's speech. She was a kind middle-aged woman who didn't have children (what Ainsley didn't know was that she was a divorced mom whose kids were in the sole custody of her well-monied ex-husband in Atlanta). When Ainsley was done, the woman smiled, put an extra dollar in Ainsley's jar, and told her that she should be on television like Diane Sawyer.  
  
Ainsley never forgot that.  
  
She held signs at a polling place on Election Day, while her dad was inside working as election judge. Everybody who came smiled and waved (except for one guy who scowled and made a gesture with his hands that Ainsley found very rude).  
  
That night, her parents let her skip her homework while returns came in (they didn't have to worry; she would be up the next morning by six to finish her math and read a chapter of  _Huckleberry Finn_ for reading class). She cheered and screamed when President Ronald Reagan was declared the decisive victor over Walter Mondale, and Ainsley went to bed with a grin on her face.  
  
If this is what it was like to win a campaign even though you couldn't vote, she thought, imagine what it might be like to win a race when you can.  
  
\-----  
  
"Josh?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"It's five o'clock, Josh. There's a speech in Albany in three hours, a breakfast."  
  
"Mmm."  
  
"We're four hours away by car, and we don't have a plane."  
  
That got him moving.  
  
Josh Lyman and Sam Seaborn were college juniors, and they were spending their free time on this campaign in New York. An older brother of a friend of girl they knew was running for governor, on a platform to reform the government from the ground up. He talked about welfare and education as eloquently as Kennedy, and better. It was a long-shot, as all idealistic campaigns were. But that worked out just perfectly for Sam and Josh, who were idealists to the core. They wouldn't have given up the semester for anything less.  
  
Of course, that being said, they were both also getting course credit for this campaign. So it wasn't entirely altruistic on their parts.  
  
Josh, not a morning person, had to be prodded and cajoled through coffee and donuts. Sam, his polar opposite, munched on orange slices and drank juice and milk. In the car, Sam drove, Josh half-asleep in the backseat for half the ride and Robert Levinson, the candidate, riding shotgun. Another car followed, driven by the sister (Rachel) who had introduced Sam, Josh, and Robert. She carried no passengers, loaded to the windowtops with campaign signs and literature.   
  
The speech in Albany was attended by maybe fifty people, all under the age of 40 and all looking for the world like rebellious Young Turks skipping out on work to hear the candidate. Robert spoke about the need for New York to set the example for the nation on health-care reform. His speech had been written, hastily, by a harried Sam, who sat in the car for the delivery with his hands covering his ears.  
  
They raised just over $3000 in a pass-the-hat, though, so maybe it was worth it.   
  
One month to go and the campaign was picking up volunteers at each stop. Soon the line of cars sporting "Lev 4 Guv" in shoe-polish on the back windows was ten or twelve long, and only Rachel's car wasn't carrying three or four people. They finally set up real campaign headquarters in Buffalo - a storefront on the outskirts, but it was something, and they had five phone lines set up for calls to be made. It was more than any of them had expected to have, anyway.  
  
Two weeks out, and an early snowstorm blanketed most of the state that wasn't Manhattan. It took nearly twelve hours for Sam to drive himself, Robert, and Josh to the city from Buffalo for their first and only scheduled debate with the incumbent governor. The only reason they weren't late was because Governor Russell had flown in for the event and was stuck now in traffic coming from the airport. But Robert had caught a bit of a cold thanks to blockwalking in the snow the day before, and the debate went solidly in the governor's favor because of Robert's incessant sniffling and coughing. They all hoped no one had bothered to tune in to the broadcast.  
  
Sam and Josh didn't sleep for the last 36 hours leading up to Election Day. Polls opened at 7am sharp and they couldn't vote (neither had changed residency for this, not thinking about it since they were caught up in the allure and glamour of 5am wake-up calls and cheap diner food for two months straight). So instead of heading to the polls, they made last minute phone calls and watching local news coverage obsessively.  
  
Races were happening around the country, and before the polls closed, NBC Nightly News was doing a profile on Senator Arnold Vinick, who was being elected to his third term by a landslide in California. Sam threw crumpled pages of aborted speeches at the screen and yelled "Fascist!" before Josh went over to turn it off.  
  
"It's not worth yelling at the t.v., Sam. Vinick's no threat to us."  
  
"Speak for yourself. He doesn't represent your state."  
  
The stations called the gubernatorial election for incumbent Governor James Pinckney Russell at 9:30. Robert Levinson had garnered 34% of the vote according to early totals.  
  
All of Robert's supporters were there in Buffalo by then, and looks of resignation, indignation, and anger passed over their faces in turn. Robert got up and stood on a chair so everyone could see him; Sam and Josh started a trend by sitting on the floor. Rachel remained standing in the back, tears running down her face.  
  
"Everyone, could I have your attention for a moment? Before I call Governor Russell," hissing went around the room, "I want to take the opportunity to thank you all for your diligence and commitment to liberty. These are not simple times we live in. The people have made their choice, and while it comes at a price for them and for us, we must pause to celebrate one thing about it. We must consider that we are unique in history, that we are able to share this night with men and women of all creeds and colors, that this choice was made by a broad spectrum of people who have a rare and special right. To cast your vote, no matter whom it is for, is a sacred part of being an American. I ask you to consider this as you begin wondering what the point was, why you even bothered showing up at the polls.  
  
"There is more to me than this election. I consider this a good beginning. Thirty-four percent of the vote against a two-term incumbent is no small feat! We will come back and we will keep hitting and we will win!"  
  
A small chorus of cheers and applause interrupted his stride. Robert grinned and continued.  
  
"Our values are American values. Equality, equity, the ability for each citizen to succeed and to have the opportunities that will allow him, or her, to succeed. Tonight, I lost this election. But thanks to the nature of democracy, I am not silenced. I am not cowed. And I will stand up to fight for these values and for you another day!  
  
"I have to take the time to thank my sister Rachel for her unflagging enthusiasm for this campaign. You are all here thanks to her efforts. Let's give her a round of applause!  
  
"I wish our parents could be here to see what she has done, what she has pushed her older brother to do. Rachel, come up here."  
  
She made her way to the front, stopping just briefly to squeeze Josh's hand and kiss the top of Sam's head. She got up on a chair next to Robert, this one a bit wobbly and causing her to stand with her feet apart to keep it from rocking. Robert held her hand and raised their arms up, and the small crowd that had been so maudlin and defeated a short while before stood now on their feet to cheer.  
  
Robert made a motion to signal for quiet, and he nodded at Rachel, who spoke with a voice as clear and loud as her brother's (making some wonder if she wouldn't make a good future candidate).  
  
"We also have to thank, specifically, Sam Seaborn and Josh Lyman. These guys are classmates of mine up in Massachusetts, and they volunteered to take the semester off and come down here to get my brother elected. We didn't succeed in that. But without Sam and Josh, our message would not have gotten out, and we would not have known where to begin crafting the message in the first place. These guys are going places, and I hope you will join me in wishing them well tonight!"  
  
The cheering was a tad less enthusiastic, as only about half the volunteers even knew who Sam and Josh were and the rest were only clapping because Rachel had asked them to. But they both grinned, waved at the crowd, their weariness from lack of sleep barely showing.  
  
Three days later, they were packed and heading back to school, once again with Sam driving and Rachel following in her own car. They would turn in their write-ups and Robert's signed forms, and get the credit they'd set out to get.   
  
It was the only time either Sam or Josh worked a campaign and got class credit, but it was also the last time they didn't get paid for working a campaign.


End file.
